


A Kalicia Christmas Carol

by randomizer



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Love, Temporary Character Death, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:20:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomizer/pseuds/randomizer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Alicia is visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Drinks Past, Present, and Future and learns the true meaning of Kalinda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missymeggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missymeggins/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! We actually matched on two different fandoms ( _The Good Wife_ and _The Fosters_ ) and your other two choices ( _The Newsroom_ and _Sophie's World_ ) are favorites of mine as well. So you have very good taste, and we have much in common. :-) Thank you for leaving a Good Wife prompt that allowed me to indulge both my love of Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_ and my desire to fix everything that's currently broken in the canonical Alicia/Kalinda relationship (and with Alicia herself) in a halfway plausible manner, if "plausible" is defined very generously. It was very therapeutic, and I hope you like the result.

**Kalicia was dead: to begin with. There appeared no doubt whatever about that. The register of its burial was signed by the Good Wife showrunners; the actors; the critics; and the chief mourners, the Good Wife fandom itself. Robert King signed it: and Robert’s name was good for anything he chose to put his hand to. Kalicia seemed as dead as a door-nail. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.**

**§§§**

 

“Are you ever going home?” Cary pokes his head into Alicia’s office. 

“Soon.” Alicia answers him absently, intent upon her work. After hosting their successful holiday party two weeks before, Florrick Agos seemed suddenly to have become the legal It Kid on the block, with new clients popping up almost daily. Alicia is determined to dazzle them all in the coming year—a few late nights in the office are a small price to pay for ensuring success.

Cary shakes his head. “You do know what day it is, don’t you?”

Alicia finally stops typing and looks at him. “Yes, Cary—I know that it’s Christmas Eve. But Zach and Grace are spending the night at the house with Peter, so there’s no reason for me to rush home early.” Cary is the only person besides Eli who knows the truth of Peter and Alicia’s living arrangements; he had been spending so much time in Alicia’s apartment that it had become impossible to hide it.

Cary looks a little uncomfortable. “What about tomorrow? Do you have anyone to . . .”

Alicia cuts him off. “No, I’m not a sad Christmas orphan. I’m meeting Peter, Jackie, and the kids at the house at 3:00 for Christmas dinner. Until then, I’m going to get as much work done as possible on Lemond Bishop’s new ‘difficulty.’ “

Cary smiles a bit at the euphemism. “Listen, I’m meeting Kalinda for a drink tonight—you’re welcome to join us if you like. I haven’t really seen her since we left, but we both thought it was probably time to do something about that.”

Alicia stiffens at the mention of Kalinda. The two of them haven’t really talked for months, for much longer than Cary and Kalinda have been apart. Even she isn’t sure exactly what caused this new, second rift after things seemed to be better between the two of them. She _does_ know, however, that she isn’t ready to repair it yet.

“No, it’s fine, Cary. I really want to finish this up, and having a few hours of peace and quiet to do it sounds like a perfect Christmas Eve to me.”

Cary tilts his head at her, looking for all the world like a golden retriever puppy. “Well, you’re a great business partner, even if you have a lousy personal life. I just have a few things to finish up, and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He goes back to his own office.

Alicia returns to her typing, so absorbed that she barely registers the fact that the creaky doors of the Florrick Agos elevator are opening. She is, therefore, startled to hear the soft sound of a familiar voice.

“Hello, Alicia.” Kalinda has somehow materialized right in front of her desk. Alicia looks up to meet a gaze appearing composed of equal parts tentative hope and stiff discomfort.

Alicia’s heart thuds just a little bit more forcefully than usual. In telling her that he and Kalinda were going out for drinks, Cary had omitted the fairly critical information that Kalinda would be meeting him here.

“Hi.” It’s all she can manage, but it’s also all Kalinda seems to expect.

“Cary asked me here. We’re going out . . .”

“Yes. He told me. He’s in his office; I can get him.”

“Alicia, wait a second.” Kalinda seems to be screwing up her courage.

Alicia waits, fearing what would be coming next. Everything about Kalinda has always unbalanced her, even more so now than when they were actually communicating with one another.

Kalinda drops her eyes from Alicia’s. “So . . . what are you doing for the holidays?”

Alicia stares at her, wondering at the question. “Nothing much. We’re having a family Christmas dinner tomorrow afternoon.” Alicia puts a tiny bit of hostile emphasis on the word _family_. She can’t help it, because mentioning her family automatically makes Alicia think about the fact that Peter slept with Kalinda, that her “family” was not the perfect, unassailable unit that she had always assumed it to be. _It’s Kalinda’s fault_.  Alicia, knowing that she is probably being unfair, lets the thought flash through her mind nonetheless.

Kalinda looks up at Alicia once again. “If you . . . if you want to come over to my apartment tomorrow morning for drinks and brunch, that would be great. We could talk and . . .”

Alicia interrupts before Kalinda can say anything further. “I really have a lot of work to do—thanks, though.” She tries not to notice how disappointed Kalinda looks at the quick rejection, or to remember how similarly disappointed she had looked two years ago when she offered Alicia a beer, or last year in the Minnesota hotel room when her tentative “I miss this” wasn’t reciprocated. Alicia hesitates, trying to decide if she should say anything further. She is relieved when Cary suddenly appears wearing his coat and scarf.

Cary looks at the two of them, clearly wondering what he might have missed. He turns to Kalinda.

“All set to go?”

Kalinda nods, her half-smile not quite reaching her eyes. Cary studies her, then turns to Alicia.

“See you, Alicia—don’t work too late. Have a good Christmas.” 

Alicia, who has returned to her laptop, nods impersonally at them both, determined not to think of anything that might be difficult or unpleasant. She does not look up again for several hours. At that point, she decides that she might as well head back to her apartment—she has some reading to do, and she can probably do that more comfortably and productively in her bed than at her office desk.

 


	2. Stern's Ghost

**Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular about Alicia’s Blackberry. It is also a fact that Alicia had as little of what is called fancy about her as any person in the city of Chicago. Let it also be borne in mind that Alicia had not bestowed one thought on Jonas Stern since Stern’s death three years before. And then let anyone explain to me, if he or she can, how it happened that Alicia saw in the screen of the Blackberry, without its undergoing any intermediate process of change—not a screen, but Stern’s face.**

**§§§**

 

Alicia shakes her head and blinks. She can’t imagine why she has a flash of remembering Jonas Stern’s face as she glances down at the screen of the media-enabled Blackberry that she only half-understands how to work. Alicia had never known Stern well; he left Stern, Lockhart, and Gardner soon after she started working there as an associate. Alicia had gotten to know him a bit in a case involving Stern’s own daughter, but they had never had any relationship at all outside of work. She recalls that he had seemed fascinated by her, but that used to happen so often to Alicia that she didn’t think much of it at the time.

Alicia decides that she probably _has_ been working a few too many hours lately; perhaps it would be a good idea to eat something and then watch some television instead of reading over her notes. She digs out some peanut butter and jelly—her secret vice, and her go-to dinner when the kids aren’t around and in need of a good nutritional example—makes herself a sandwich, trades her work clothes for her favorite pajamas, and climbs into bed. She clicks on the television to consider her options, finally settling on tonight’s Jon Stewart.

Alicia is absent-mindedly listening to Jon’s monologue when she suddenly realizes that she’s not hearing Jon at all; instead, the voice on the television appears to be bearing a striking resemblance to Jonas Stern’s husky twang. She looks up and blinks twice—Stern is indeed on the television right in front of her, wearing a rumpled-looking suit and scuffed shoes. He suddenly speaks directly to Alicia, in flagrant disregard of both the fourth wall and the general laws of physics.

“Hello, Mrs. Florrick. You’re looking well these days.”

Since there isn’t any other rational explanation for what appears to be happening, Alicia is now certain that she must be dreaming. The thought of that is suddenly soothing, and she finds herself able to form words.

“And you’re looking well yourself, Mr. Stern, for someone who’s been dead for three years.”

Stern smiles mirthlessly, stepping toward her. Alicia suddenly realizes that he is dragging a long, heavy chain behind him. She looks at it and then raises an eyebrow at Stern questioningly.

“I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link, and yard by yard. Each time I refused an offer of friendship, or had an opportunity to forgive a wrong and held a grudge instead, another link was wrought. Your own chain is every bit as long and burdensome as this one.”

Alicia is startled and then irritated—what right, after all, does the ghost of a boss she barely remembers have to comment on her personal life? This dream clearly has something to do with her earlier encounter with Kalinda, and the fact that her subconscious mind has apparently decided to travel down this forbidden path annoys her greatly.

“Not everything can be forgiven and forgotten, Mr. Stern. We’re not children anymore. Sometimes you . . . you just need to move on.” Alicia’s voice falters here a little, because if she were being honest with herself she would admit how much she _doesn’t_ exactly want to move on from Kalinda—she just doesn’t really want to move forward. But she’ll be damned if she’s going to try to explain any of that to an interloping dream-ghost.

Stern looks directly at Alicia, ignoring what she has just said. “You’ve changed since I’ve died, Mrs. Florrick; you’ve become harder, stronger. But that strength might also be your undoing if you let it shut you away from those who care about you. You still have a chance to avoid my fate. You will be haunted tonight by three spirits.”

Alicia looks at Stern in disbelief. “You’re not serious?”

“As serious as a heart attack, which coincidentally is how I died three years ago. Expect the first one as the clock strikes 1:00 A.M.”

“Couldn’t I just meet all of them at once and get it over with? Wouldn’t that be more efficient?”

Stern snorts. “Efficiency isn’t what we’re going for here—it’s an overrated concept at best, and it’s worthless after you die. Best of luck to you, Mrs. Florrick. We won’t have a chance to speak again.” Stern disappears and Jon Stewart returns in the midst of some high-powered mocking of Fox News. Alicia forbids herself from feeling unnerved by any of this; she had clearly just nodded off, and now she is awake again. That’s all there is to it. She clicks off the television and then the light, settling into bed. Despite the stubbornly lingering feeling of strangeness, she falls asleep immediately.

 


	3. The First of the Three Spirits

**Light flashed up in the room upon the instant, and the curtains of Alicia’s bed were drawn aside; and Alicia, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found herself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them: as close to it as I am now to you, and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow.**

**§§§**

 

Alicia suddenly jerks awake, startled by something that appears to be right next to her bed. She looks at her bedside clock, noting that it is exactly 1:00 AM. For the first time of the evening, she becomes a little frightened.

“Who is it? Is someone there?” Alicia’s eyes begin to focus, and to her shock she sees someone who looks very much like Elsbeth Tascioni standing next to her, although this . . . person . . . clearly isn’t exactly the Elsbeth that Alicia knows: she is dressed entirely in white, with a sprig of holly in her hand and a crown on her head. Emanating from the crown is a clear jet of light.

Alicia finds her voice. “Elsbeth? Are you . . . what are you, exactly?”

Elsbeth nods. “I am one of the spirits who will be visiting you tonight. I’m assuming a form that is familiar to you. By the way, I really like those pajamas of yours. Where did you get them?”

“Um, Eddie Bauer, I think. Elsbeth—who are . . . what exactly are you?”

“I’m the Ghost of Christmas Drinks Past.”

“Long past? You mean, grog in the Middle Ages?”

“No. Just your past.”

Somehow, this sounds a lot more worrisome to Alicia than the Middle Ages ever could. 

“We need to get going, or we’ll never finish. The last time I didn’t get everything done, I really got in trouble for it. One time I actually forgot to bring my person back, and _that_ was really a problem. All of these rules . . . Anyway, just touch my hand, and we’ll get started.”

The idea of free will or choice in any of this seems to have dissolved long ago. Alicia touches Elsbeth’s hand, closes her eyes, and braces herself for whatever might be coming.

_A holiday cocktail party in 2006, just after Peter’s first year as the State’s Attorney._

_“Alicia, darling!” Lauren Chatham, one of her old friends from Highland Park, rushes up to a younger, softer version of Alicia. “It’s a marvelous party!”_

_Alicia smiles at her. “Thanks, Lauren. Peter seems pleased with it—he really wanted to make a splash to celebrate his first year in the SA’s office.”_

_“Well, you’ve made the splash for him, as usual.” Lauren’s eyes suddenly flicker toward another woman. “Look at how much weight Janice has gained—I don’t know how Paul puts up with her.”_

_Alicia looks at her. “Well, I know that she and Paul have been having a hard time . . .”_

_Lauren snorts. “Can you blame him?”_

_Alicia changes the subject. “By the way, are we still on for tennis on Tuesday?”_

_“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”_

_Lauren drifts out of the room and glides toward another guest, touching her arm and whispering in her ear. “Can you believe that Alicia’s wearing gray? It’s a holiday party, not a funeral!” The other guest smirks, and the two women walk off together, glancing at Alicia and laughing._

Alicia glances at Elsbeth, who is gazing at her sympathetically. “Not a great friend, was she?”

Alicia sighs. “No, not so much. I mean, I thought at the time that she was one of my best friends. We lived next door to each other and watched each other’s kids grow up.”

“She’s not anyone that I’d trust, that’s for sure. Although that dress of hers was wonderful. I didn’t agree with her about your dress at all, by the way. You look great in gray. People really need to stop thinking about colors in a box like that. One time I saw someone wearing yellow to a memorial service, and it really was _just_ the right thing for that occasion . . .”

Alicia interrupts her. “Elsbeth? Are we supposed to be going somewhere else now?”

Elsbeth nods. “Sorry; thanks for keeping us moving. You’re so good at that! Touch my hand again and let’s go.”

_Christmas 2008, right after Peter’s scandal broke._

_Lauren and Julie, another one of Alicia’s former Highland Park friends, are drinking tea in Lauren’s familiar living room._

_“I still can’t believe it.” Julie sips her drink and sighs, apparently delighted by her own incredulity._

_“I can. I mean, it’s Peter. I’m just surprised nobody caught him doing anything like this before.”_

_“You’re not going to invite her to your party this year, are you?”_

_Lauren shakes her head decisively. “Of course not. The poor thing—she wouldn’t want me to, anyway. The whole thing is just humiliating. I can’t stand to look at her, really. Imagine not knowing that your husband was sleeping with prostitutes!”_

_“It would change the whole tone of the party,” Julie agrees. “And it’s not like she was ever very interesting anyway. Those two-word sentences of hers get a little tedious.”_

_Both women laugh._

Alicia rolls her eyes. “I get it—I had terrible friends in Highland Park. This isn’t exactly news to me.” She feels a pang nonetheless—suspecting what people might have said about her and actually hearing it are two entirely different things.

“Well, you might be happy to know that three years from your own time, Lauren’s husband will be found in a . . . compromising position of his own.” She laughs, and the idea does make Alicia feel a tiny bit better.

“Are you supposed to tell me things like that?”

“Hey, I’m a spirit, not an angel! But we need to move on.” Once again, Alicia has the unsettling feeling of the world dissolving into nothingness and then coming back sharply into focus in an entirely new time and place.

_December 2010, and she is sitting and drinking tequila with Kalinda in a bar decorated for the holidays. The two of them are laughing._

_“Courtney actually told Blake that?” Alicia is giggling._

_“She did!” Kalinda, incredibly enough, is giggling too. “I don’t think he’ll be asking her out again anytime soon.”_

_Alicia suddenly looks thoughtful. “Kalinda . . . this thing with Blake. Do you want to talk about it?”_

_Kalinda abruptly stops laughing. “It’s ok, Alicia. It’s all fine.”_

_“But is it really? You said that Blake wants to hurt you . . .”_

_“I won’t let him. Don’t worry about it.”_

_Alicia looks at Kalinda with a soft expression that usually only her children see. “I do worry about it. I don’t know . . . I don’t know what I’d do without you around.”_

_Kalinda smiles a little. “You’d manage.”_

_Alicia is overly earnest, the way she sometimes gets when she’s been drinking. “Kalinda, did I ever thank you properly for telling me about the competition with Cary last year? I wouldn’t even have my job if it weren’t for you.”_

_Kalinda looks down at her drink and doesn’t answer. Alicia, sensing even in her tipsy state that she might have gone a little too far down the emotional highway, changes the subject to something safer._

Alicia looks at Elsbeth. For some reason, she’s finding it a little difficult to speak. “I remember that night. It was only a couple of months before . . .” She is unable to finish the sentence.

“A couple of months before you found out about Kalinda and Peter.” The Elsbeth-spirit finishes the sentence helpfully. 

Alicia’s voice hardens. “It was all a lie. The whole thing—that whole time. None of it was real.”

“Wasn’t it? You two seemed to have a real connection—you did right from the beginning, didn’t you? It all seemed pretty real to me. You need to stop thinking that everything divides neatly into true and not-true, real and not-real. That’s such a mortal way to look at the world. It’s all so much more of a continuum than that. Everything is gray—you wear gray all the time, so you should know something about it. You’ll understand that later, when it’s too late to do anything about it. Don’t you _hate_ it when things like that happen?” 

Before Alicia can answer she feels the world shimmer and dissolve once again.

_Christmas Eve 2011. Alicia and Grace are sitting together on the couch, drinking what Alicia remembers being hot chocolate._

_Grace breaks the silence. “Mom, I’m sorry again about running off to the church. I wasn’t thinking. I won’t do it again.”_

_“I know.”_

_“It was good that Kalinda came to get me—the whole baptism thing took a lot longer than I thought. I’m glad I didn’t have to take a bus home.”_

_Now Alicia looks at her. “Grace . . . did Kalinda say anything when she drove you home? Anything about me, or . . . anything else?” She feels foolish even asking the question._

_Grace looks puzzled. “No, nothing. She was pretty quiet after she asked if I was all right. We just listened to the radio.”_

_Alicia isn’t certain of precisely what she’s trying to find out. “When you asked her if she wanted to come in . . . what exactly did she say?”_

_“She just said no, and then when I asked her whether she wanted me to tell you about it, she seemed to think about it and then said no to that too. It was a little weird.”_

_Alicia can’t seem to stop her hands from shaking, can’t understand the unsettling mixture of hot lava and ice that appears to be swirling inside of her. She takes another sip of hot chocolate and wills herself to stop picturing Kalinda standing just outside of her apartment with her daughter that evening._

Alicia has pushed the memory of Kalinda’s rescue of Grace to the far corners of her mind, but now the feeling of the whole event comes rushing back. How could she have forgotten this? She had been frantic that day, as scared as she had ever been in her life. And Kalinda had . . . just taken care of the problem, quietly, efficiently, and without asking for Alicia’s praise, love, or forgiveness. Who does that? _Why_ did she do that?

Elsbeth answers Alicia’s unspoken question as easily as if it had been said aloud. “She told you why she did it, when you sat with her in the car that day. Don’t you remember? She never stopped being the person who was your friend, the one who always had your back. She knew she could help you, and so she helped you. It was pretty simple to her.”

Alicia thinks about that. Maybe it _was_ simple for Kalinda; maybe it _was_ Alicia herself who had always made it complicated. _But she slept with my husband!_ Yet with the memory of her conversation with Grace still so fresh in her mind, she finds that the thought does not evoke quite the level of rage that it usually brings.

The flame above Elsbeth’s head has grown lower. “We have time for only one more vision. Take my hand.” Alicia does, this time prepared for the now-familiar dissolve, fade, and focus effect of shifting time and space.

_Christmas Eve, 2012. Kalinda is sitting alone on a white chair in a very white room, drinking a glass of wine and looking at a picture. Alicia assumes that this must be Kalinda’s apartment, which she has never seen. Her vision of the scene is sharp and clear enough for her to see that the picture is of Nick and that, incredibly, Kalinda appears to be crying. Kalinda suddenly flings the picture across the room. The glass breaks with a loud crack, and at the noise Kalinda lets out a single audible sob. Alicia sees that her hand is shaking as she lifts her glass of wine and then puts it down again. Kalinda picks up her Blackberry and taps it to call someone. As the name “Alicia” flashes across the screen, Kalinda suddenly clicks it off, breaking the connection before it can even begin. The last view Alicia has as the scene slowly fades away is of Kalinda alone in the white chair, taking another sip of her wine and gazing at the broken picture of the man who used to be her husband._

Alicia and Elsbeth have shimmered back into Alicia’s own bedroom. Alicia can barely speak. “I . . . had no idea that she felt that way about Nick. She said she didn’t love him.”

“Love. Hate. Who can ever really tell? It’s complicated, isn’t it? How do you really feel about Peter?”

Alicia ignores this. “But if she felt that way, why did she . . . why did she leave him? What happened to him?”

“She got rid of him because he was going to be dangerous to you. She wasn’t ready to have him entirely out of her life, not yet. But even more, she wasn’t willing to put you in jeopardy. As for what happened to him, there are questions that even spirits can’t answer.”

“She . . . she was going to call me that night. But then she didn’t. Why . . .” But Alicia knows why, knows how much she has kept Kalinda at arm’s length even after telling her that she wanted to try to make their friendship work. Suddenly, she feels closer to tears about Kalinda than she’s felt in a long, long while.

Elsbeth looks at her kindly. “Go to sleep, Alicia. Your night is far from over.” She dissolves as the faint flame above her head is finally extinguished completely.

 


	4. The Second of the Three Spirits

**People of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselves on being acquainted with a move or two, and being usually equal to the time-of-day, express the wide range of their capacity for adventure by observing that they are good for anything from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter; between which opposite extremes, no doubt, there lies a tolerably wide and comprehensive range of subjects. Without venturing for Alicia quite as hardily as this, I don’t mind calling on you to believe that she was ready for a good broad field of strange appearances, and that nothing between a baby and rhinoceros would have astonished her very much.**

 

**§§§**

 

Alicia, who had fallen into a sleep peculiarly deep and immediate, is suddenly jerked awake without knowing exactly why. By now, she is only mildly jolted by the fact that Robyn Burdine appears to be sitting on the foot of her bed. This version of Robyn, however, is dressed in a long green robe seemingly composed of holly and mistletoe, with a white collar. Alicia absently wonders what Elsbeth (either the real Elsbeth or the spirit one) would have thought of Robyn’s robe.

“Robyn? You’re . . . you’re the second spirit, aren’t you?”

Robyn nods. “I’m the Ghost of Christmas Drinks Present.”

“So we’re . . . we’re going to see people drinking _this_ Christmas?”

“You got it, boss. Touch my robe and we’ll be off.” Alicia does, and they are.

_Her old house—Peter’s house now—on Christmas Eve. Grace and Zach are sitting in front of the tree, each holding a steaming mug._

_“I miss Mom. I wish she were here.”_

_Grace looks at her brother. It’s not like Zach to say anything like that; he generally pretends everything is fine or says nothing at all._

_“She’ll be here tomorrow. I think she just didn’t want to do a whole family thing with us all through Christmas. Besides, she has a lot of work to do.”_

_Zach nods. “Starting the firm has been rough. I just wish she had someone to hang out with after work.”_

_Grace sighs a little. “Yeah. She doesn’t really have any friends, does she? Maybe she doesn’t want any. Maybe we’re enough for her.”_

_Zach scoffs at that. “We’re not. We’re barely home anymore.”_

_“Maybe we should stay in more this vacation. You know, go to the movies and stuff, like we used to do with her when we were little. She doesn’t seem to have much time for that anymore, but we should try to do it anyway.”_

_“Yeah. Let’s do that a couple of times. She’ll like that.” As Peter enters the room, the scene dissolves, fading to a light green instead of the white to which Alicia had become accustomed with Elsbeth._

Alicia can’t help smiling sadly. “They’re great kids.”

“They are,” Robyn agrees. “And they seem to have noticed something missing from your life that you’re not paying attention to yourself.”

“They’re wrong, though.” Alicia feels defensive, because whatever the state of her relationship with Kalinda, of course she has _friends_. Everyone has friends! Her kids don’t know every aspect of her life, but that’s because she doesn’t tell them everything. She tries to make a mental list of the people she’s been out with lately and realizes that it actually has been awhile since she’s done anything socially with anyone, but surely that’s understandable; starting a new law firm is a time-consuming process. Certainly, before all that she did go out for drinks with friends. There was Laura (who hasn’t talked to her since the abrupt breakup with Will). There was Maddie (who probably had been using her to get information about Peter). There was . . . there was . . . those women she used to play tennis with . . . 

Alicia stops making the mental list, since it clearly isn’t going very well. “Where are we going next? What else do you have to show me?”

“Much, and very little time to do it. Touch the robe again—it’s pretty cool, isn’t it? Hang on!” And with a dramatic _whoosh_ , they are suddenly somewhere else entirely.

_Will’s office. Will and Kalinda are sitting together, a scotch in front of Will and a glass of milk in Kalinda’s hand. Will’s face is impassive._

_“She was better in court than I thought she’d be. Tougher . . . I don’t know. That cross didn’t go the way I thought it was going to go.”_

_Kalinda looks at him. “Things rarely do go the way we think they’re going to go.” Her eyes are faraway and sad._

_“I have to get over this, I know. But she’s just not who I thought she was. She’s never been who I thought she was. I want to destroy that firm.” His voice is low; he means this, and she knows it._

_“Will . . . you can’t. They’re not the enemy; Alicia isn’t the enemy. You have to let it go.”_

_Will snorts, throwing back another gulp of his scotch. “I don’t know when you got to be so saint-like. You should be just as up for this vendetta as I am. She’s hurt you just as much as she hurt me.”_

_Kalinda hesitates. They almost never talk about this, and she doesn’t want to start doing it on Christmas Eve, right before she has to meet Cary. “She had her reasons.”_

_“Reasons, right. Does she know that she would have been disbarred two years ago if you hadn’t figured a way out of it? Does she know anything that you’ve done for her? That I’ve done for her? Does she think she just magically became a name partner in a law firm? Whatever. She’s on her own from now on, as far as I’m concerned. Good luck to her and to Florrick Agos. I’m through with her.” He takes another sip of his drink._

_“I’m not through with her.” Kalinda says this so softly that Will barely hears it. “Not yet.”_

“What . . . what did Will mean about my getting almost disbarred two years ago? That never happened.” 

Robyn answers casually. “Oh, it did—you just never found out about it. It was something about a rider that you didn’t sign at the time of a divorce case, and then David Lee signed it for you a couple of years later . . . I forget, but it was a whole thing. Anyway, the SA’s office got hold of it and tried to blackmail Kalinda. Pretty smart, since everyone but you knows that Kalinda will do just about anything to protect you, always. But luckily, Kalinda managed to save you and not hurt anyone else doing it. She’s pretty amazeballs.”

Alicia nods numbly. Amazeballs, yes. She’s suddenly picturing the last four and a half years of her legal career entirely differently. Kalinda really _has_ been there for her every step of the way, even when they were barely speaking, even when they couldn’t justifiably be considered friends at all. _Would_ she be where she is right now without Kalinda? Would she have made partner at Lockhart Gardner? Would she have started her own firm with Cary? These thoughts, which have never occurred to her until this minute, are unsettling. And why did Kalinda keep doing these things? Why _wasn’t_ Kalinda through with her? 

 _She’s a better person than I am, a whole lot better._ The thought comes to Alicia unbidden and unwelcome, but once there she finds herself unable to banish it.

Robyn taps Alicia’s wrist. “One more vision—we have to keep to our schedule. Let’s go.” And with a now-familiar _whoosh_ , Will’s office dissolves into a fading green afterglow.

_A familiar bar, one that she and Kalinda used to go to all the time. Kalinda and Cary are sitting at a table together, bottles of beer and appetizers in front of both of them._

_“Are you going to tell me what happened back there?” Cary’s eyes are on Kalinda, and he looks concerned._

_“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” Kalinda tries to smile and only succeeds in an odd sort of grimace._

_“You’re not fine. What did Alicia say to you?”_

_“Nothing. I just asked her if she wanted to come over tomorrow, and she had other plans. That’s all. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing.”_

_“Well, Christmas Day. She probably does have things to do with her family.” Cary looks uncomfortable as he says it, because he knows full well that Alicia has no holiday plans until tomorrow afternoon._

_“Yeah.” Kalinda twists her napkin and takes a sip of her beer._

_Cary hesitates, because he knows just how forbidden is the territory that he’s about to cross. “Kalinda—we never talk about this thing with you and Alicia. You’ve never told me how it all went down.” He screws up his courage even further. “She . . . you’re friends again, aren’t you? What happened with Peter . . . it was before you even knew Alicia. She has to see how different that is from . . .”_

_Kalinda shakes her head, both to stop this conversation in its tracks and to deny Cary’s assertion. “No, I don’t think she sees that. I think it’s all the same thing to her—I betrayed her. I hurt her. I lied to her. And let’s face it, Cary—I_ did _those things. She’s not wrong.”_

 _“She_ is _wrong.” Cary is surprised by the vehemence of his own reaction—he and Kalinda have their own tensions and difficulties, and it probably would be smarter for him to concentrate on those than to worry about the Alicia/Kalinda quagmire. “She’s really wrong. You love Alicia.” He can’t believe he just said that aloud, but he is surprised enough by Kalinda’s candor to venture it. It’s something that he’s thought for so many years that verbalizing it actually seems oddly natural._

 _Kalinda swipes her hands over her eyes, not looking at him and barely speaking above a whisper. “I wish that I had done anything else that night except sleep with Peter Florrick. I thought I had to . . . maybe I even_ did _have to. But . . . she’s never going to be able to . . .” She stops, and Cary just squeezes her hand from across the table, knowing that there really isn’t anything more to say right now._

Alicia has never fully seen Kalinda’s feelings before as plainly she sees them at this moment. She has long realized that Kalinda wants to be friends again with her, but this level of misery is something entirely beyond that. Alicia feels her own heart crack a little at the sight.

Robyn is watching her closely. “You’re surprised?”

Alicia doesn’t look at her. “I didn’t know _—_ I didn’t know she cared this much, not really. I always thought . . . when we were friends, I thought that I was the one who cared more. Then when I found out about Peter and her, I . . . I was sure of it. I thought she was just playing with me.” _I don’t think that now._ The thought that flickers through her mind is just as impossible to banish as other stray thoughts on this peculiar night have been.

“Not a very happy Christmas Eve for Kalinda. But it’s good that she has Cary.”

Alicia shakes her head. “I always had a feeling that Cary knew about Kalinda and Peter. At least he’s been discreet about it for all of this time.” She hesitates. “Robyn, what did Kalinda mean about _having_ to sleep with Peter?” 

“That one is above my pay grade. I think that it has to mean that she slept with Peter to get something from him that she needed, maybe something that she _really_ needed.” Alicia thinks about that—maybe, maybe that scenario is better than what she has always imagined. Maybe Kalinda really _had_ been in trouble. She remembers Kalinda telling her about how she changed her name, remembers what an unsavory guy her husband Nick turned out to be. Kalinda always did what she had to do in order to survive; Alicia really was doing the same thing for herself when she quit Lockhart Gardner and started Florrick Agos. Maybe Kalinda isn’t all that different from her. Maybe it _would_ be possible to understand, to forgive, to . . . The thought makes her suddenly shiver.

Robyn is smiling at her, as if sharing the same feeling and enjoying it. “Our time is up. Touch my robe so we can return.” As soon as Alicia does, she finds herself back alone in her bedroom. Exhausted and unwilling to think for another second, she crawls into her bed and falls instantly asleep.

 


	5. The Last of the Spirits

**The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently, approached; in the very air through which this Spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery. It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. But for this it would have been difficult to detach its figure from the night, and separate it from the darkness by which it was surrounded.**

 

**§§§**

 

This time, Alicia awakes to the strains of a particular Bach concerto with which she is all-too-familiar. Blinking, she finds herself staring directly into what appears to be—and yet also clearly is not—Matthew Ashbaugh, her former client who died a few months ago. Like the real Matthew, this one carries a Jambox playing Bach over and over on loop. Unlike Matthew, he is wearing a black hooded cloak, and his eyes are blank and unseeing.

Alicia finds her voice. “You’re . . . you’re the Ghost of Christmas Drinks To Come?” Alicia knows the answer, but for some insane reason she feels a bit less unnerved when Matthew nods at her.

“I’m not sure . . . I don’t think I want to see my future, not now. Can we . . . not?” Matthew shakes his head. He points toward the wall of Alicia’s bedroom. She realizes that she is supposed to follow him in that direction. As she does, the bedroom itself disappears in a flash of light.

_Cary and Will, in a dark bar that Alicia does not immediately recognize. She is startled to see that Will is smoking. To the best of her knowledge, he hasn’t smoked since college._

_Cary is the first of the two to speak. “When did you find out?”_

_“Last night.” Will stubs out his cigarette and doesn’t say anything further._

_Cary’s face is ashen. “I haven’t heard from her in months—I wasn’t really worried, because I knew how much she wanted to disappear. Do we know what happened?”_

_Will shrugs. “The Toronto police identified the body right away; she got caught in some crossfire in a sting to take down a major ring of Canadian drug runners. We don’t know why she was there; we just know that she’s dead.” His voice cracks a little on the last word._

_Cary swears to himself. “I didn’t want her to leave Chicago—I told her not to go. But you know Kalinda; you can’t tell her much. I really think she was just so lonely . . . she and I were friends, but we had too much . . . something . . . ever to be there for each other.”_

_Will shakes his head. “I’ve just been so damn busy for the past few years, building up the firm. It seems ridiculous now.”_

_Cary looks at him. “But you know why she left. It wasn’t because of us. It was . . .”_

_Will nods. “I know. Kalinda never really got over the whole thing. Being here, seeing her, not being able to . . . I think it all just got to be too much. She just wanted to get out and start over somewhere else.”_

_Now Cary is sorry that he brought this subject up at all. “It’s not really our business. We shouldn’t blame her . . .”_

_“Why not?” Will looks at Cary aggressively, almost as though he wants to take a swing at him. Reflexively, Cary ducks a little._

_“It just doesn’t do any good. She did the best she could.” Cary is not sure if he fully believes in his own words; they are not, after all, as close as they once had been._

_“Her best was pretty damn little. After all Kalinda did for her over the years, she couldn’t even . . .” Will can’t finish the sentence._

_There isn’t much for Cary to say. They sit in silence, each contemplating his own drink._

Alicia finds herself shaking. “Matthew . . . who were they talking about? Who was it that made Kalinda leave Chicago?” _It wasn’t me, it couldn’t have been me._ She tells herself this firmly, willing herself to believe it. _There was Lana; there were all sorts of women I’ve never met. She wouldn’t have uprooted her entire life because of me._ Alicia looks at Matthew, hoping to learn more. Matthew merely points and walks away. Alicia follows him dully, terrified at what else she is about to see.

_Lockhart Gardner, Alicia’s former office and David Lee’s current one. David and Diane are speaking behind a closed door._

_“She was_ disbarred _?”_

_“I just heard it from Lionel—he was on his way to the Bar Association holiday party, and I just caught him. They really had no choice—those filing dates that she missed amounted to malpractice. It cost them the class action. Because of her mistake, that drug is going to be on the market for years.”_

_David isn’t particularly interested in this part. “We’re just lucky our hands are clean on this one. We had nothing to do with her firm on this case—we’re in the clear. ”_

_Diane shakes her head sadly. “Lucky, yes. But her career is going to be over; she won’t recover from this. Her partner pushed her out of the firm just before this happened—probably it was a smart move for him, given everything.”_

_“I don’t think she’s going to care very much—from what I hear, she’s been spending most of her time sitting alone and drinking, ever since she found out about Kalinda last Christmas. That’s probably why she missed the filing dates in the first place.” Even David allows a flicker of something passing for emotion to cross his face as he remembers Kalinda. She was competent; he had always liked her._

_Diane sighs. “Someone needs to get her to talk to someone. She can’t go on like this. You’re married to her mother—can her family help?”_

_David shakes his head. “Not likely. She hasn’t talked to her mother or brother in a long time. Her kids just make the obligatory call here and there, but they never come to visit anymore. And of course, she never remarried after the divorce—she just wanted to focus on her job.”_

_Diane looks over at him, frowning. “I’m surprised that Kalinda’s death hit her so hard—they haven’t been friends for years.”_

_“She’s not our problem. We have enough troubles of our own right now. She’s made it very clear that she doesn’t care about anyone at Lockhart Gardner, or anywhere else for that matter.”_

Alicia is shaking even harder than she had been before. She looks at Matthew, feeling just as mute as the spirit. He points in a new direction. Alicia hesitates before following his finger. 

“Matthew . . . who was it . . . who were they talking about?”

He stares at her with his vacant eyes and continues to point. Alicia steels herself and walks in the direction he indicates, closing her eyes as she feels the place-shifting flash.

_For a moment, Alicia thinks that she has materialized in a dark, empty room. Orienting herself, she sees that she is actually in a bar. Judging from the sunshine coming through one of its few windows, it appears to be mid-morning. Suddenly, she spies a single figure sitting at the bar, entirely alone and nursing what looks to be the dregs of a very large scotch. All Alicia can tell is that the woman is rail-thin and sports a very short, very unattractive haircut._

_The bartender is talking to her now. “You need to go home, ma’am. I’m going to have to cut you off.”_

_“Home, right.” The woman slams down her glass._

_“Is there anyone that I can call?”_

_The woman stands up, her voice thick. She laughs, a sound jarringly cold and harsh. “No, nobody. Not now. Not anymore.” She puts some money on the bar and turns to leave._

Alicia gasps at the shock of recognition—this woman, this broken woman, is . . . her. She looks at least twenty years older, but Alicia has a feeling that far fewer years than that have actually passed.

“Matthew! Has . . . have . . . was this all about me? Did Kalinda die because of me? Was I the one who was disbarred? Can I . . . how can I change this? There has to be some way to stop all of this from happening!”

The Bach concerto rising to a crescendo in her ears, Alicia feels Matthew’s hand on her shoulder . . . and suddenly she does not. She is back in her own room, in her own bed, alone once again.

 


	6. The End of It

**Yes! and the bedpost was her own. The bed was her own, the room was her own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before her was her own, to make amends in!**

 

**§§§**

 

Alicia sits up, immediately fumbling for her Blackberry. What day is it? She gasps with relief when she sees that it is 8:00 A.M. on December 25. It can still be all right! 

Alicia starts to tap out a text message to Kalinda but stops in the middle of it. She realizes that she doesn’t want to text, or call, or do anything less immediate than going over to Kalinda’s apartment and seeing for herself that she is still there, and that the two of them still have the time and the will to fix everything. Alicia has spent so long determinedly _not_ wanting or needing Kalinda that this sudden desire shocks her even more than seeing clients and colleagues as spirits had done. For once, she doesn’t want to analyze any of that—she just wants to act.

Alicia is up, showered, and dressed in a matter of minutes, pausing only when she passes her bedroom mirror to glance in relief at a haircut that she never fully appreciated before. Brunch . . . yes, Kalinda had said something about brunch last night (a thousand years ago) while she was waiting for Cary in the Florrick Agos offices. Alicia knows that it’s too early for brunch, and she isn’t even certain she can find Kalinda’s apartment. Alicia is about to call Cary and ask him for information when she suddenly remembers the change of address card that Kalinda had given to her a lifetime ago. Despite everything, despite her constant internal refrains regarding how little Kalinda actually means to her and had ever meant to her, Alicia has never quite been able to throw this little card away. Seeing it now, and thinking about all that she has learned about Kalinda over the past night—how could it really have all happened in a single night?—Alicia’s eyes prickle with tears. She finally realizes just how much trust Kalinda had put in her by giving her this card at all, and she now knows that she, just as much as Kalinda—maybe _more_ than Kalinda—has betrayed that trust simply by continually refusing everything Kalinda has tentatively offered.

Unable to stand being in her apartment a second longer, Alicia flies down to her car and keys Kalinda’s address into her GPS. She wishes that she felt half as calm and confident as its apparent emotional state: the GPS voice continually assures her that they are on their way and will arrive at the programmed destination in seventeen minutes. Alicia interrupts the trip for a short detour to a high-end specialty grocery store, which incredibly, appears to be open even on Christmas morning. Alicia efficiently purchases some thick white bread and eggnog (great for French toast), bacon, fruit salad, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Armed with suitable peace offerings, she arrives at the outside of Kalinda’s apartment building more quickly than the dour predictions of her cross GPS companion’s irritated recalculations. Somehow she finds herself parking her car, locating Kalinda’s specific white door in the hallway, buzzing a doorbell, and finally gazing at a visibly confused Kalinda Sharma. It’s all Alicia can do at the moment not to squeeze her to make certain that she’s actually real.

“Alicia? What’s wrong?” Kalinda is staring at her, and Alicia realizes that there is just the barest of possibilities that she looks like a crazy person. She finds that, right now, she doesn’t care about this in the slightest.

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s right. Here—I brought brunch.” She hands her bag to Kalinda, who is looking at her with greater and greater confusion.

“But . . . you said . . . I wasn’t expecting . . .”

“I know. That’s why I brought food. You’ll have to provide the alcohol, though. We can spike the eggnog if you have some rum. Tequila doesn’t seem like a holiday brunch drink, but maybe we can make it work . . .”

“Alicia—what are you doing?”

“I’m accepting your invitation to brunch. A little belatedly, I know.”

“But . . . what?”

That first giddy rush of excitement at simply being here, at seeing Kalinda alive and breathing in front of her, starts to give way to nervousness at what she is about to say to her. Yet Alicia forges ahead nonetheless.

“I _really_ want to try to make it work. Remember that hotel room last year in Minnesota? I should have told you right there that I’ve missed everything we had, too—I just couldn’t. I can now.” Alicia says all of this in a rush, staring at the bottle of eggnog peeking from her bag so she doesn’t have to look at Kalinda directly. When she does look up, she sees that Kalinda’s eyes are wide and oddly shiny.

“Why? Why now?”

“Why not now? Do you still want to?”

“I . . . I do. Come in?”

Alicia steps inside, drinking in the white serenity of Kalinda’s apartment. Some might find it barren and impersonal, but she likes its calm order instinctually. She starts when she sees the white chair, remembering the sight of Kalinda sitting there with the picture of Nick.

“Kalinda . . . thank you for everything. You’ve done so much for me—you’ve never stopped doing things for me. I’m sorry that I couldn’t . . .” Alicia’s voice chokes here, and she can’t finish.

Kalinda touches Alicia’s hand, and Alicia grasps it wordlessly for a moment. Kalinda finally breaks the silence. “Just don’t leave Florrick Agos without telling me.”

Alicia laughs shakily. “I won’t, as long as you promise never to move back to Toronto, even if you _do_ tell me.”

“I promise.” Kalinda’s unguarded, obvious joy has clearly short-circuited the analytical part of her brain, and she doesn’t even pause to puzzle over Alicia’s peculiar remark.

“So . . . do you have a frying pan around here? I want to make some French toast.”

“I . . . yes. My egg pan. And I _do_ have some rum for the eggnog.”

Alicia thinks that she has never felt quite as light and free as she does at this moment: the burden of her bitterness and anger had been so great that letting go of it is like suddenly becoming a hot air balloon and soaring away. Suddenly, a thought strikes her.

“I think I hate eggnog.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Kalinda looks as if she’s about to laugh.

“It’s great for French toast, though.”

“A lucky thing.”

“Just one tequila shot wouldn’t kill us, would it? Even at ten o’clock on Christmas morning?” Alicia feels reckless and a little goofy.

“No, probably not.” 

They smile at each other.

 

**§§§**

 

**Alicia became as good a friend, and as good a person, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Alicia and Kalinda’s friendship rose back to its rightful place as the core relationship on The Good Wife, wherein it dwelled happily for many seasons to come. And so, as Alicia would have observed, were she not an atheist, God bless Us, Every One!**


End file.
